The bass from the speakers downstairs hums softly through the floorboards as I sit cross-legged on Lily's bed, watching her rifle through her closet. Her room is huge — too big for just one person — and the open window lets in a warm breeze that smells like salt and summer.

"How about this one?" Lily holds up a shimmering gold crop top and raises an eyebrow.

I shake my head, suppressing a laugh. "I'd rather not look like I'm part of the décor."

"Ugh, you're no fun." She tosses the top aside and continues digging. "I swear you need to loosen up, Em. This is a party, not a family dinner."

I already feel out of place. The black skirt I brought barely passes mid-thigh, and the fitted top I'm wearing seems too tight, too bold. Lily, on the other hand, looks like she was born for nights like this — her white dress short enough to show off her tanned legs, her blonde curls bouncing with every movement.

"Relax, you look hot," she says, flopping onto the bed beside me. "Seriously, Noah's going to lose his mind when he sees you."

I roll my eyes. "It's not about Noah."

Lily smirks. "Sure it's not."

I swat her with a pillow, but the blush rising in my cheeks betrays me.

Noah. The thought of him has lingered all day, no matter how much I tried to brush it off. The way his eyes flickered to mine at the beach, the easy way he smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I shouldn't think too much about it.

Lily nudges me with her foot. "Come on. Let's go downstairs before Jake drinks all the tequila."

"Tequila?" I hesitate.

She shrugs. "Only if you want. No pressure."

I exhale and follow her to the door. "Fine. But if I embarrass myself, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

The party's already in full swing by the time we make it downstairs. The house feels warmer, crowded with people spilling from the living room to the kitchen and out onto the back deck, where string lights glow faintly.

The beach stretches just beyond the house, and bonfires flicker in the distance. I spot Jake by the speakers, fiddling with the playlist, while a few others pass around red cups near the pool.

"I'll grab us drinks," Lily shouts over the music, disappearing into the kitchen.

I linger by the sliding glass doors, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I'm about to step outside when I feel someone watching me.

Noah.

He's leaning against the wall near the fridge, wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that somehow make him look like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. His gaze flicks over me — once, twice — and something shifts in his expression.

For a second, I think he might say something. But instead, he pushes off the wall and walks toward me.

"You need a drink?" he asks, voice low enough that I barely hear him over the music.

"I guess."

His eyes linger on mine, then drift to my lips. "Come on."

I follow him to the kitchen, where he grabs a bottle of rum and starts mixing something with coke. His hands move easily, like he's done this a thousand times.

"You're comfortable with this, aren't you?" I muse, leaning against the counter.

He glances at me, smirking. "What, making drinks?"

"No, all of this." I gesture around the room. "The parties, the people... it's like second nature to you."

Noah pauses for half a second, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I guess you get used to it." He hands me the drink. "Don't worry. I didn't make it too strong."

I take a sip and nearly choke.

"This is 'not strong'?"

He laughs, and I hate how much I like the sound of it.

"You'll survive."

Lily and I dance for what feels like hours, lost in the haze of music and lights. The alcohol softens everything around the edges, and I can't stop laughing at how ridiculous Jake looks when he tries to moonwalk on the deck.

At some point, Lily pulls me onto the beach. The bonfires cast long shadows across the sand, and I stumble a little as we make our way toward the water.

"You okay?" she asks, looping an arm around my waist.

"I'm good," I mumble, though the world feels a little tilted.

I'm about to suggest heading back when I see him.

Noah's further down the beach, alone, his hands shoved in his pockets as he watches the waves. Something about the way he stands there makes my heart flip.

"Go talk to him," Lily whispers, nudging me forward.

"I don't—"

"Go."

Before I can protest, she's gone, disappearing back toward the bonfire.

I hesitate for a moment before stepping closer. The sand is cool beneath my feet, and when I reach him, Noah glances sideways, lips curling into that familiar half-smile.

"You lost?" he teases.

"I guess."

Silence lingers between us, broken only by the sound of the ocean.

"It's quieter out here," he says finally.

I nod. "Yeah."

The alcohol in my veins makes everything feel heavier, and I sway slightly. Noah's hand brushes against my arm, steadying me.

"You're drunk," he mutters.

"I'm not that bad."

He tilts his head, unconvinced. "You're bad enough."

For a second, I think he might kiss me. His gaze drops to my lips, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating off him.

But then he pulls back.

"Come on. I'll take you upstairs."

His voice is softer now, almost careful.

I follow him without question, and by the time we reach Lily's room, I'm barely awake. Noah sits me on the edge of the bed, crouching in front of me.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

I nod, even though the room spins.

His fingers brush against my cheek, and I realize he's holding a makeup wipe, gently smudging away the mascara under my eyes.

"You didn't have to—"

"I know."

For a second, I think I see something else in his eyes — something softer, something he isn't saying.

But before I can think too hard about it, he pulls the blanket over me and stands up.

"Get some sleep, Emma."

And just like that, he's gone.